


Hurricane

by misaffection



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:57:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misaffection/pseuds/misaffection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baal is not the butterfly, but the hurricane; wild, untamed and disruptive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurricane

Sam knows science. She knows how a small change can lead to large results. It’s the old adage of a butterfly flapping its wings and causing a hurricane on the other side of the world.

The ‘small’ change has had an impact that is massive in terms of her everyday life, but still limited to a certain area. It happened on the top level, meaning by the time it reached her lab it had expanded exponentially.

Baal is not the butterfly, but the hurricane; wild, untamed and disruptive. He charges in, mouth already firing a string of instructions. She stands, bewildered, in the eye of his storm as he simply takes over the phase experiment. He mutters something about polarity and the incompetence of Tau’ri females. She arches an eyebrow, then realises he’s changing the parameters she’s spent all day working out.

“Hey!”

The look he gives her quells most on the base, but not her. She’s not afraid of him, mostly because she knows full well he would never hurt her. She takes the tablet from him and moves away, cradling the computer like a baby as she changes the program back.

“The protocols are wrong.” He folds arms across his chest. “Were they written by a monkey?”

The insult snaps her out of the distraction of bare tanned skin laid over powerful muscles. She stares at the tablet screen. If he’s right, she can’t see where it has gone wrong.

“I’ve tripled checked it,” she says, before realising that admission just leaves her open to attack. “This is the same as worked last time, just on a larger scale.”

“Therein lies your problem.”

He plucks the tablet out of her hands. She makes a grab for it, but he turns and blocks her with his shoulder.

“ _You’re_ the problem,” she mutters. “Give that back.”

“If you run the phase device under those protocols, you’ll either end up thrown into another dimension or else incinerated.” He taps the tablet, fingers moving rapidly as he rewrites the program. “See? You’ve made absolutely no allowance for feedback. What _were_ you thinking?”

Sam skirts the table and vents her frustration by yanking a panel off the device. “I was thinking I must have done something pretty dire in a former life for karma to dump you in my lab.”

“Petty, Samantha. I’m just trying to help.”

“What you’re _trying_ is my patience.” She flaps a hand at him. “Go and bother someone else.”

He looks at her for a moment, then shrugs a shoulder and walks out. His capitulation takes her by surprise and she stares at the closed door. Then shakes her head and goes back to checking over the device and her calculations.

Five minutes later, and she’s still not run the experiment. Baal’s warning nags at her, along with the distinct feeling that she’s missed something. It’s possible she’s actually missing him. The calm is eerie.

“Get it together, Sam,” she mutters to herself. She puts the tablet down and begins to power up the phase device. Her eyes flick from the dials to the display on the tablet and back again. Everything looks on target. She smiles and rolls her shoulders.

The moment of calm is shattered as Baal cannons in. She gets as far as opening her mouth, then he’s pulling her back and round. Pain blossoms down the length of her spine as he flings her against the wall. There’s a sound beyond sound. He presses against her, shielding her as a white light erupts from the device.

Heat ruffles her hair. The stench of burning flesh reminds her of Jack’s last BBQ. In a flash she knows two things – that without his interference she’d be dead, and that he’s just taken a massive blow on her behalf.

“Baal,” she ventures. His hands are tight on her upper arms. His weight holds her fast against grey concrete. “Baal?”

He shudders. “I would say that I told you so,” he says, voice oddly husky. “However it seems a little pat under the circumstances.”

She eases him away. Flinches at what he blithely dismisses as ‘pat’; his shirt is a ruin of scorched fabric, his back raw and blistered. “Oh God,” she whispers, and supports his elbow with one hand as she fumbles for the intercom with the other. “Med team to lab four STAT.”

She helps him to a stool. His face is grey and drawn, his eyes tight from the pain. The uncomfortable realisation that he saved her life drops her stomach into her boots. She licks her lips.

“I don’t understand,” she says and it’s almost plaintive, because she really, really doesn’t. “Why did you do that?”

An eyebrow arches. “Would you prefer being blasted into ash?”

“Well, no, but...”

“There you go, then.”

Rubbing her forehead, she counts backwards from ten. Where the hell is that med team? “That explains... absolutely nothing.” She glances around the devastation of her lab. The hurricane became a bomb, but if he’s right, then this is her fault and not his. “Between saving my life and teaching me lesson, I’m rather surprised you didn’t do the later.”

Baal sighs. “I once said that I would not harm you. That includes _allowing_ harm to happen, even if you are so determined to damage yourself.”

The arrival of the med team means she doesn’t have to think of a response to that. He waves off the gurney and the nurse that tries to help him up. Sam shakes her head, but she trails after him as the party heads to the infirmary.

His shirt is beyond salvation – a fact he complains about loudly and at some length. Sam picks up the tattered remains, intending to throw them in the garbage. Instead, she sits on the next bed with the shirt folded on her lap.

Carolyn cleans up his back. Everyone knows he’ll heal quick enough that anything more than basic first aid is pointless. Still she seems to be intent on making sure she does what she can to ease his pain.

Sam watches it all through a haze of guilt. She should have dialled the device back, she should have run the simulation once more, she should have listened to him. Anything that would mean he wasn’t sat opposite her, injured on her behalf.

Her fingers toy with his shredded shirt. His tirade of complaints tail off and the weight of his gaze lays heavy across her shoulders. She sighs and lifts her chin, letting her eyes take him in. The half smile is an unexpected comfort.

“Would you be happier if I said I told you so?”

She shakes her head. “Not really. Baal-”

He waves a hand, dismissing her words before she speaks them. “Wallowing in misplaced guilt does not suit you, Samantha.”

“Is it misplaced? I should have listened to you.”

“What, the former enemy who is nothing but a bane on your existence?”

That makes her flinch, but she cannot deny it. Her gaze drops back to her hands, knotted on his shirt. She chews at her bottom lip. If she could have the moment back...

She jumps a mile at the touch on her cheek. His thumb eases her lip from between her teeth and then traces her mouth. Her gaze skitters over his firm stomach and muscular chest to the brown eyes that sparkle at her. The bane of her existence? Once, maybe, but not any more.

“No, you’re not. You... saved my life. I wouldn’t have survived that blast, Baal. You only did because you have an advantage.” She captures his hand. “So I guess I owe you one.”

The half smile stretches into an immediate grin. “Dinner off base. No guards. And you wear something blue.”

She blinks. “How long have you had that planned?”

“Oh, for ever. I was just waiting for an opportunity to risk life and limb on your behalf, in order to guilt you into agreeing.”

His tone is sarcastic, but Sam suspects there’s a certain amount of truth to it. She weighs his demands with her options. How she’d get Landry to let him off base, even for a couple of hours, is beyond her. But as she gazes into his eyes, what comes out of her mouth is “Okay.”

A startled look crosses his face. He hides his surprise quickly and the more familiar smug expression settles into place, but she caught that moment. And now she knows he’s not as sure of himself as he pretends.

She puts the shirt to one side and stands up. Meeting his amused gaze, she smiles wider. “How about tonight?”

The humour falls away. “Really?”

“Unless your symbiote won’t have healed you by then.”

“No, that shouldn’t be a problem.” He looks somewhat flustered. Sam drinks it in, aware it might not happen again. “If you’re sure.”

She grins at him. “I am if you are.”

He blinks, then his eyes narrow. A self-assured smile curves his lips. “Absolutely.”

“Then it’s a date.” She regrets that word the second it’s out of her mouth. “Um...”

“Absolutely,” he murmurs again and his smirk is wicked.

She’s no idea what she’s just agreed to really, but as she skirts past him with the excuse that she needs to get clearance from Landry, she realises that it doesn’t matter. That she’s actually looking forward to their... date.

One small change. She huffs a small laugh. Hurricane Baal has shaken her foundations, turned her life upside down and inside out.

And she doesn’t give a damn.


End file.
